


Camera Show of Doom

by Zimbrane



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Comedy, Dominance, Emotionally Repressed, Light Masochism, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Work, Sexual Roleplay, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimbrane/pseuds/Zimbrane
Summary: After flunking fifth grade Zim decides to assume the role of a working human thanks to an unpaid electric bill. Unfortunately for him, his work experience with death machines and exile at Foodcourtia as well as abrasive personality make job hunting difficult. He comes across a line of work that might work to his advantage.---At the same time, Professor Membrane experiences stress from constant days of attention and admiration and looks for anonymous attention. He finds a rather strange "roleplay" livestream of a man plotting world domination that gets his attention.
Relationships: PMaZr, Professor Membrane & Zim, Professor Membrane/Zim
Comments: 15
Kudos: 82





	1. The Ransom of E. Bill

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a server joke that I took too far. The first two chapters are going to be somewhat tame, but I may have to adjust the rating to explicit depending on what happens after.

_THUD. ‘Welcome Home, Son!’_

Zim waited for his robot parents to retreat from their fixed path to reset before he set his foot down from the thunderous kick that he had given the door. He hopped over the track with a noise that implied that this tiny leap was a mighty feat. The invader set clawed hands at his hips to assume a stance of superiority the moment he saw his robot servant peek up from the couch with the squeak of a plush toy.

GIR, his bumbling but eager SIR unit, had been comfortably assimilated with the base’s couch before his master’s arrival, facing an unlit television. His green dog disguise was worn zipped up to his tin head to resemble a child in a onesie. The robot peeked up from the arm of the chair at the source of the din. Disappointingly, as always, GIR failed to assume defense mode. Normally he’d reprimand the lazy robot but there were more important things to address.

“GIR! I have most glorious news. Our assimilation into society has been completed. For I-- the mighty ZiM!—have _completed_ the fifth grade!” He held out the certificate of ‘evidence’ for the robot to see with pride; a filthy napkin with ‘Good Luck’ scribbled and signed with Ms. Bitter’s crude signature. “There is no need for ‘pre-algebra’ in my worldly conquest. Realizing this truth, and telling the masses, Ms. Bitters had no choice but to offer me a just promotion. Victory for ZiM!!”

“Oooh, ooh!!” The green dog bounced on the couch and cheered. Zim allowed GIR to enjoy being his captive audience for a moment longer. After all, it was a clear sign of victory! “We gonna get a biiiig hat to throw?” The SIR unit eagerly hopped out of the chair so that he could orbit Zim to try hunting for the graduation cap the movies already had.

“No hat, GIR,” the invader corrected the robot with a terse tone. It didn’t stop the little robot from hopping about in circles to look. For the sake of not going dizzy the alien remained in his dramatic pose to continue his speech. “Zim _needs_ no hat. He requires only a change in status. As long as this official document stands, this disguise is _no longer_ that of a small dookie child but that of a more—” It was only then that he noticed the room was quiet save for the sound of GIR squeaking about. The television was silent for the first time since their arrival. The lights were even dimmer than usual. Strange.

Zim ended the festivities with an authoritative bark aimed at his surroundings. “Computer! What is the status of the base’s power supply!?” A low sigh rumbled from the AI as it put forth effort. The ding of a completed diagnostics check came from the kitchen timer.

[POWER SUPPLY: LOW. USING EMERGENCY POWER SOURCE.]

“Them chipmunks is running reeeal fast!” GIR opened his head to produce a rodent that it had taken from the underground reserves. Zim snatched the little creature by the tail with a stern look at the robot. It was going right back in the wheel where it belonged the second that he was done with arguing.

“What is the meaning of this!? Computer!” [WHAaaAAaaT.] “Change input power to default settings. We need more energy to report this news to the Tallest—ENERGY, I SAY!!” The alien emphasized this as he yanked his wig off and tossed it, along with the chipmunk, on the ground. The little critter took its moment of thankful freedom to bolt out of the base. His tantrum was only rewarded with the ping of a failed command. Already he was looking around for something to blame GIR for.

[DEFAULT SETTINGS UNAVAILABLE. POWER SOURCE NOT IDENTIFIED.]

“Heh!?”

[DEFAULT SETTINGS UNAVAILABLE. POWER SOURCE--]

_“Heh!?”_

[POWER SOU--]

** _“Heh!?”_ **

Zim’s base realized that effort was useless and instead projected an image of the base for the half-deaf invader to look at himself. A gloved finger furiously tapped at one of the main power lines, the giant cables that were sapping at the neighbors’ electricity supply. For some odd reason his neighbors didn’t have electricity. This must be a strategized assault against his mission.

“GIR! Conduct an investigation around the perimeter. It seems that my new status has triggered an act of defiance.” The SIR unit saluted, zipped up his green suit, and skipped outside.

It was barely a minute before the robot barreled back in holding an unopened letter. The dog ran in a fixed circle in front of his master, the envelope held high. “It’s for me!!” He continued to run, hands held high, even after the alien snatched the paper away to open it. Zim zoned out the excitable chatter as he tore the seal and read the contents.

“B… I… L… L…?” The invader sounded the unfamiliar word out with a squint. “What is this!? Who is this ‘Bill’ and what does he want? Computer! Who is this ‘Electric Bill’?”

[ELECTRICITY IS A LIMITED RESOURCE ON EARTH. MONTHLY PAYMENT IS REQUIRED FOR SERVICE.]

“Electricity is… limited by this Bill?” Zim growled and ran outside to yell into the air, the bill and dirty napkin raised high in defiance. “CURSE YOU, BILL! ZIM WILL PAY THIS ABSURD RANSOM… AND THEN HE WILL GET HIS ELECTRIC REVENGE!!”


	2. Overly Incompetent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Job hunting is more difficult than Zim realizes, especially when he's a target.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow leadup. Things are going to get spicy in the next chapter!!

“…According to your resume, you have been a… scientist, performance artist, engineer, janitor, food court slave, couch, soldier, and as a ‘perfectly normal humanoid. You have also been in fifth grade for ten—” The employer paused and squinted his eyes at the paper that had been printed. It was strangely written in third-person and was hurting his eyes. 

Surely that was a misprint. It had to be. For the sake of his sanity the manager used his thumb to wipe away the extra zero. He also erased what he was assuming was an extra zero in the man’s work experience.

“…my mistake. You’ve been in fifth grade for _one_ year?”

“Yes.”

“…With _one_ year of school experience?”

“That’s right.”

The man looked up to note that the strangely-dressed green man hadn’t moved from his seated position throughout the entire interview. His eye contact was certainly impressive! A bit alarming, but impressive. The man’s bushy moustache was very shiny and as well-kept as his dark hair. Strangely sparkly, though.

“I suppose the first thing to say is… thank you for your service as a veteran! Serving your country is certainly a tall—small!—I mean…” Sensitivity training didn’t quite cover little green men dressed in a tunic. He cleared his throat and raised a thumb up as a compromise. “… G-good job.” When the manager was only rewarded with a slow blink he attempted to clear the air with a cough.

“Well—normally we would turn away applicants with your school experience, but… fifth grade reading is the average reading level in the U.S…” He hummed in thought before making his final decision. “Welcome to the team! It’s an honor to have you here at customer service, Mr. Doctor-Sir-Master-Im!”

He wore a large smile as he reached across the desk to offer a hand to the new hire.

“Where are my manners? My name is _Edward Bill_. Welcome to the team!”

\---

SLAM. ‘Welcome home, son!’

Zim was greeted with a loud popper set off by GIR. It was one of many that had been set off in his face throughout the week. After the fifteenth time he didn’t blink at it. Yet more glitter was added to his hair and the fake moustache, adding to their sparkly sheen.

“Yaaay! Master’s home!!”

“Ridiculous! Obscene!! The Bill has plagued ZiM yet again!” The alien stomped his foot to emphasize his rage. His glitter-covered moustache fell off only to be picked up by his robot servant. GIR giggled and set it on his head. He babbled something about hats before running back to his usual position of sitting on the couch. It seems the payment went through judging by the familiar din of the television.

Zim grumbled, producing a tablet from his PAK to scribble out yet another listed item. “A worthy adversary, indeed. He’s taken on so many forms and seems to be laser-proof. How is the mighty ZiM expected to take on the role as a monkey-servant if he’s everywhere!?”

It had certainly been a difficult first week of adulthood. Every time that he had been offered a position there was someone with the name, and it had resulted in chaos. Whether it was a well-meaning customer or a fellow employee, Zim found at least one poor soul that became a target.

The invader decided to take a break and scramble onto the couch to sit next to the little robot. He needed a break. “Hmh. No matter. This ‘Bill’ cannot get the best of a mighty Irken soldier trained for combat. One day he will fail. One human cannot be everywhere, after all. The Urthen internet should yield progress.” He reclined back on the couch and focused on the colorful cartoon characters that bounced about rambling nonsense. “So. Who’s that schmooping Dina?”

“Toddie’s twin.” “Huh. Don’t remember him from this season. What’s his name?”

“Nya!” A little voice came from the kitchen in response. Minimoose had been listening in while he was raiding the fridge.

Needless to say, the television would need to be replaced.


	3. Headaches and Monkey Brains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the odd concussion he suffered, Professor Membrane has decided to look for a professional to address his mental health. Unfortunately for him, being well-known makes it difficult to find help in the right places. The world's eyes are on him no matter where he goes and it makes the search impossible.

Today’s conference went on for a long time, long enough to where Professor Membrane didn’t have the time to make a new video of the day for his kids. Hopefully, they wouldn’t recognize that the one he had scheduled was from several years ago, back when Dib had lost his lung to a tragic moo-ing accident.

Thankfully he’d be able to come home and explain things himself. After recent events, Membrane realized the value of spending more time with his children. The professor was able to experience the luxury he hadn’t enjoyed since his college years; free time. Why in this ‘free time’ he was able to learn quite a bit about the less-scientific world! He felt like he was learning everything from the ground-up, especially when it came to social media.

It didn’t take long for him to sign up for just about every social website and forum that his children were part of. It was so much fun commenting on their statuses and reminiscing about the good old days when they were young enough to wear diapers. He was especially active in commenting on Dib’s messages with scientific quotes of the day.

Speaking of which--! The scientist pulled out his mobile phone so that he could put today’s message up: ‘Hello son! Did you know that half of the world’s oxygen comes from the ocean? Have a scientific day!’ And… sent! Already he noticed that there were a few page views and comments to his message. He beamed under his collar, proud that he could give his son the attention he deserved. It was nice to be known, wasn’t it?

Right?

It was then that he noticed on his phone that his counseling consultation was soon. Goodness-glory! The most unscientific thing to be is late. Ever since that blunt force trauma, Professor Membrane took it upon himself to arrange a meeting with a psychiatrist. After all, if it made him see aliens, fight robots, and experience and alternate realities, then it could impact his work. It took a surprising amount of courage to call in for an appointment. Why on earth could that be?

Professor Membrane made sure to take his nametag off while he was in the waiting room for therapy. It simply wouldn’t do if he were recognized as the world-famous scientist! It would breach one of the most important ethical codes if there were a dual relationship between himself and the professional.

Membrane took the time that he had before his appointment to pull out his phone and casually look at his son’s profile again. He hoped that Dib would have at least one new friend after his friendly dad-approved message. As he waited for his son hoping for any change, he heard an oak door creak open. The scientist’s gaze immediately went to the source to see that a small woman with thick glasses stood at the doorway. Professor Membrane smiled and stood up to offer his hand to the professional.

“Greetings! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your time. My name is—”

“Professor Membrane himself! Oh goodness,” The professor’s hidden smile faded when he saw the woman fish out her phone so that she could get a picture of the man. “I’ve been a fan of your work, I truly have. My daughter goes to all of your big events. Oh, she’ll probably stop blocking me on her accounts once she sees that our biggest celebrity in Ohio is here.”   
Relief faded into concern, and then to disappointment.

Perhaps being known wasn’t so ‘nice.’

\---

Professor Membrane was up rather late as he scrolled through his personal computer. The man had been so preoccupied with scientific progress that he hadn’t realized how prevalent his presence was online. His social media was filled to the brim with comments about his work and where he had been. Goodness—that picture that was taken was already on the front page. He decided to look farther into the matter and noticed that the picture was being used in several online articles. 

They were flooded with comments from fans arguing about how the image was photoshopped. Was it so odd that he was human and needed help? Could he even ask for it?

With so many strange people talking about his personal affairs, he felt rather alone. Professor Membrane was held at such a high pedestal that people expected much from him. Far, far too much. It made things impossible to pursue relationships or look after his own well-being.

What he wouldn’t give to feel normal. To start ‘new’. To be able to spend time with someone without being idolized. To have privacy once in a while.

The scientist, usually brimming with world-saving ideas, was quite at a loss for what he could do. He couldn’t just stop being himself! He’d have to find somewhere where names didn’t matter. Somewhere he could just ‘be’. But where…

Suddenly his screen lit up bright red with an odd triangular pattern. A loud monotone droll came from his computer making him wince. Professor Membrane quickly muted his computer only to realize that somehow it failed to affect the voice at all.  
He found himself speaking aloud at this as if the computer could respond back. “What on—!?”

[ATTENTION FLESH PIG. THIS IS A COMPLETELY NORMAL INTERNET PHENOMENON.]

Membrane had extensive knowledge of technology. He understood how server hijacking worked to some degree and how to prevent it. Being able to take over someone’s entire computer down to its own functions is beyond impossible for any hacker. Everything about this event screamed ‘danger’!

\--But after all, this is the internet. Maybe this was one of those joke websites that Gazelene used to trick Dib into visiting. 

  
He continued to watch, brows knit in confusion. While the scientist listened, he also nervously took the time to reach around the monitor to see if there was some odd device on it that had the computer still blaring sound despite his attempt to silence it. As he searched, Membrane’s ear was dangerously close to the speakers and he could feel his ear canals vibrate, especially through his metallic headset.

[ACCORDING TO YOUR BROWSER HISTORY, THIS COMPLETELY LEGITIMATE NON-THREATENING SIMIAN SURVEY UNDERSTANDS THAT YOU HAVE:]

[-- A FIXED INCOME—]  
Membrane poked his head up and argued with the computer as if it contained some sort of AI that he could chastise. “Hold on, that seems a bit invasive. I’m not sure I approve of this sort of--”

[--AND DO NOT UNDERSTAND PROPER BUDGETING METHODS]

Membrane sweated under his goggles as he thought back to the twelve backup clown puppy statues that he had bought last summer. Fair enough.

[CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR RECRUITMENT TO THE CAUSE. YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED A USERNAME AND NUMBER BASED ON YOUR INSIGNIFICANT TRAITS.]

Under normal circumstances this strangely derogatory advertisement wouldn’t have motivated the scientist to investigate. After all, he’d worked hard for his role in society! The idea of some strange bug talking down to him and assigning him a name as if he were part of an assembly line sounded horrible. Who on Earth would even consider engaging?

… But with recent events, the idea of being a random cog in the wheel felt like it had its benefits. He had been hoping for some anonymity. What could this possibly hurt? The professor glanced behind him as if to make sure there was no invisible audience about to judge him before he clicked the oddly demanding advertisement.

He was redirected to what appeared to be a chatroom and a video that was currently featuring the same baleful icon. Another conference call? Fingers hovered above the keys before he typed a cautionary message among the already-chaotic stream of text. Perhaps one of these lovely people could give him a polite run-down.

[annoyingmailcreature28: FLOP OFF MONKEYBRAIN.] _Excuse me? _The professor almost typed back but sat back with a chuckle. The internet was an untamed territory after all, just a nameless citizen. Also because Gazoline has written far, far worse on social media.

Also it wasn't _technically_ an insult, as that was apparently his username.

Membrane, or "monkeybrain38" he supposed, turned his gaze from the aggressive chatroom to the scarlet screen that continued to pulse. He wasn't sure why but the insult just made him more curious. What kind of oddball audience could something like this gather?

As if in response the red screen blinked out only to be replaced with a blend of purples and greens. A collection of machines were blurry in the background. He was interested in them until he noticed a hastily drawn sign that read "NORMAL THINGS". Well-- alright! Normal it was, apparently.

He was so focused on the "normal" equipment that when he saw movement from his peripherals of someone shifting in place and a commanding voice he nearly jumped out of his chair. Somehow he managed to miss the man who was seated in front of all of the "normal" objects in a chair that for some strange reason resembled a pilot's seat. With green skin and a commanding tone he certainly wasn't normal at all.

"Greetings earth-PIGS. You have a mission. A most important mission! A mission that will determine the fate of your pathetic world!" Membrane's eyebrows raised at that. A mission? How exciting! If it was for the world he'd be more than happy to comply. Already his head was swimming with the potential current world issues that might be addressed. Poverty? Famine? A functioning economy?? How exciting. He could work behind the scenes as this 'monkey brain' account and do his part just like an ordinary citizen.

"--Send in your internet-currency to ZiM to appease the E. Bill-- and tell me how to **destroy** that creature so he never returns to take my base's power supply!"


End file.
